Evanidus Veneficus ON INDEFINITE HIATUS
by Oobyll
Summary: It's Harry Potter's sixth year at Hogwarts. Everything seems normal, well, as normal as things get at a magical boarding school. But of course, there is always trouble in paradise. His magic has left him completely. Or has it?
1. The Disappearing Act

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me. It belongs to J. K. Rowling. There, you have my confession.**

_A/N: Constructive criticism, compliments, and flames are all welcome. I realize the first chapter is fairly short, and I apologize. The following chapters will, hopefully, become longer._

"Harry!" an unwelcome voice said sharply, coming from somewhere above the aforementioned boy's head. "Wake up! Breakfast's gonna be over in ten minutes, and I'm starving!" The barely awakened teenager groaned. However, he did not move. Moving was for bright-eyed, energetic people who woke up before 10:00 in the morning. The voice became distressed. "C'mon, Harry! I need to eat. _You _need to eat. And we can _not_ be late to our first period class again. Especially since it's, well, with Snape. Not to mention that Hermione will _kill_ us if we get another detention."

Harry swore lightly under his breath and finally rolled out of bed. Ron grinned, then pushed Harry through the motions of getting ready, using the words "Hurry up!" at least eleven times. "Okay, you look… well, it's fine for now. Let's go!" said Ron, giving his ruffled friend a quick once-over. The two boys swiftly exited their dormitory, one being dragged just a bit.

...O...

Once they arrived at the Great Hall, they realized they had exactly one minute and thirty-two seconds to eat. "Damn," Ron managed, as he rushed over to the almost empty Gryffindor table and began stuffing himself. Harry, upon the sight of food, became a little more awake and made his way over to where Ron was sitting.

"Bacon's great today," said Ron thickly. Harry tried a piece, smiling as he was filled with porky goodness. He then glanced down at his watch, and frowned. "The food's gonna disa---" he started to say, but was abruptly cut off by the pop of house elf magic clearing the dishes. Ron was left with his hand stretched out, about to take a blueberry muffin. He glared at the table. "Yeah, I guess we should go get all our Potions crap together now," Harry prodded. A sigh escaped from the redhead's mouth. "Sure, I suppose we have to."

"D'you know where Hermione is? I haven't seen her at all today," said Harry, as they walked up the moving staircase outside the Great Hall. "I… don't know. Probably at the library researching for that Ancient Runes essay she's been all excited about," replied Ron.

"Hmm. It's kinda early for research, don't you think?"

"We're talking about Hermione, remember? The library is her best friend! Well, besides us. It doesn't matter. Hermione will be in Potions once we get there, I'm sure. Unless she decides to skip class." Both Ron and Harry snickered at that. "Just imagine the look on Snape's face if he found out _Hermione_ was playing hooky…"

...O...

"Stir it _carefully_, Harry. Think of it as stirring a pot of boiling water. You don't want the liquid to splash outside the pot, or the cauldron, in this case, because it will _burn_ you. Or me," Hermione reprimanded her mildly irritated partner. "This is stupid. Why do we have to learn how to make such a useless potion anyway?" Harry vented. He was still sour about points Snape took from Gryffindor. His more level-headed friend ignored him as she delicately dropped in exactly one ounce of grounded troll toenail. "Bloody Snape and his bloody stupid class."

"Harry, do me a favor and raise the temperature a little, about twenty degrees?" asked Hermione, who was busy chopping the next ingredient. "Yeah, sure," the teenage wizard agreed, reaching into his robe pocket for his wand. He pointed it at the cauldron, and then muttered a heat spell. The flames did not increase in height, nor did the cauldron give any signs of getting hotter. "Huh," Harry said, confused. He tried it again, with a little more force behind the words. But there was no change in temperature; not even the slight rush that meant the wand was channeling magic. And it wasn't like it was a difficult spell, in fact, it was routine. "Very odd," Harry thought aloud.

"Hurry up. It's almost time to put the nightbloom in," Hermione told him, slightly annoyed that he was taking so long. "I… can't," Harry admitted, still stumped.

"What?! Why not? It's not like you haven't done this before."

"The spell won't work. _You_ try it." Hermione pulled out her own wand and cast the heat spell on the cauldron. The previously quiet fire hissed and crackled as it shot up a couple inches in height. The brunette witch raised an eyebrow at her friend. "I don't get it! I tried to cast the spell, exactly the same way you did, but nothing happened," explained Harry.

"That doesn't make any sense. Try something else. How about _Lumos_? You can't possibly mess that one up," Hermione suggested. Holding his wand out once again, Harry attempted a simple _Lumos_. Nothing happened. "Maybe it's your wand…? Try using mine." The poor boy did, to no effect.

"I… I need to see Dumbledore. Now. He'll know how to fix whatever's wrong with me," said Harry in a normal tone, albeit a bit shakily. His bushy-haired lab partner bit her lip, looking worried. "Yes, you should definitely see the Headmaster. I'll go with you. But…" Her gaze swept over the classroom's occupants, including a very sullen-looking Ron who was paired up with an equally disgruntled Draco Malfoy. "Ron will have to stay here. Snape's going to be mad enough with just the two of us requesting to leave class early."

"I doubt Snape will excuse us, though. Where is he anyway? Isn't he supposed to be supervising us?"

"I'll go check in the supply room, and if he's not there, we'll just go without his permission," Hermione said firmly. Harry nodded, hoping that she would not find their greasy professor so that they wouldn't have to put up with his questions. While waiting for his friend to return, he tried a couple of charms. And, as he had expected, they did not work. At all.

After a few minutes, his friend was back, with no Snape in sight. "Alright, let's get going then. I wonder where he is…?" Hermione left the words hanging in the air, not waiting for an answer. "I don't think any of our classmates will care if we leave," she noted as she glanced at their deep-in-concentration fellows. After a quick _Evanesco_ performed by Hermione on their potion, they made their way hurriedly out the door and towards the stone gargoyle, walking so fast they were almost running.

"Where were you this morning?" inquired Harry, interrupting the swishing sounds of their robes and the soft clacking of their shoes on the stone floor. "Oh. I was up in my dormitory, putting the finishing touches on that Charms essay that's due tomorrow. I didn't even eat breakfast. You weren't worried, were you?"

"Nah, not really. So you really are going for that extra credit Flitwick promised to give to all those who turn their essays in a day early? 'Cause you know you don't actually need it, right?" Harry teased gently, letting his mind wander off the topic of his oddly defunct magic.

"But I got an Acceptable on the last paper, and that's going to hurt my average if I'm not careful. Now I'm just trying to get a few extra points to make up for it," Hermione defended herself. The two Hogwarts students fell silent for a moment as they traveled the last few meters to the gargoyle.

"Uh, lemon drops? No. Skittles? No. Tootsie rolls?" The gargoyle moved out of the way, creating an opening to the flight of stairs that lead to Dumbledore's office. Harry could feel his heart rate increase as he went up, and not just because of the physical activity. Hermione got to the door first and knocked.

"Come in," a strong, but old voice ushered. The pair did, wasting no time. "Have a seat, if you'd like." They nodded, and the wise Headmaster conjured a couple of comfortable chairs for them. "Now, what seems to be the problem?" Dumbledore asked as they sat down, kindly ignoring the fact that they were supposed to be in class.

Harry spoke up before Hermione could say anything. "My magic's not working."

"Ah, that would be a problem. I know you've already tested it, but would you humor me for a moment?" The Headmaster glanced at Harry, waiting for affirmation, then continued. "Levitate this quill," he said gently, pointing to a huge green-feathered quill sitting on his desk.

"_Wingardium leviosa_," Harry intoned clearly. The quill didn't even so much as twitch.

"Interesting. What else did you try that didn't work?"

"A couple heating spells, and a _Lumos_," replied Hermione for her friend.

"Alright. Now, I'm going to cast a quick Magical Detection spell on you, Harry, to see what sort of state your magic is in. You won't feel anything, so just relax," the old wizard reassured. He then made a few complicated movements with his wand, and spoke a short incantation. A blue cloud of mist escaped from his powerful wand, and floated over to Harry, encasing him so it appeared he was in a concentrated spot of turquoise fog. It disappeared after about half a minute, and a frown appeared on Dumbledore's wrinkled face.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but it appears that, at least for the time being, your magic is… completely… gone."


	2. An Odd Happening

_A/N: Sorry about the shortness, as well as the wait. This is mainly a transitional chapter, nothing too exciting. Chapter 3 should be longer, and you'll start to hear more about why things are happening. Thanks for the review, kateg123!_

A rather depressed-looking sixth-year sat on a maroon and gold armchair, watching his housemates filter in and out of the common room. He was one of only four people in there, as most students were occupied with classes.

Harry, on the other hand, had been excused from his classes for the day, because of his "condition". Dumbledore had tried to comfort him, but that, of course, did not help very much. The only consolation Harry had for his sudden loss of magic was that Dumbledore thought it was only temporary.

The Headmaster promised he would search for a way to get Harry's powers back, although first they would have to determine _why_ they left their vessel in the first place. And in the meantime, no one but his closest friends, Ron and Hermione, were to know of his Harry's problem. Fair enough, Harry supposed.

The excuse for Harry not being in class was that he'd had a stomach bug all day, and Madame Pomfrey had decided it best for him to rest and avoid passing his sickness to his classmates. Hermione had wanted to forgo class so she could help her friend, but Dumbledore had asked her to "please go to class as usual" since it would look a little suspicious if both of them were out at the same time.

So that left Harry to brood on his troubles. He didn't even bother trying to use magic. It would just make him feel even worse. He certainly did not need that.

A terrifying thought came to him. What if he had to leave Hogwarts? People would start to wonder why he never attended class, why they never saw him perform magic. He couldn't pretend he had a stomach bug forever, that was for sure.

And if someone like Malfoy found out that Harry Potter had practically become a Squib, well, Harry would have to go about the castle with bodyguards following him everywhere. It would be embarrassing, to say the least.

"Hey, Harry," a smiling Ginny interrupted his downward-spiraling thinking. The boy looked up at her, wondering why she wasn't in class. "Is something wrong?" she inquired, noticing his expression.

"What time is it?" Harry asked, ignoring her question.

"I don't have a watch on, but I think it's about one 'o' clock. Lunch just started," the youngest Weasley explained. Much later than Harry had imagined, then. Ginny frowned. "It's pretty clear something's bothering you, Harry."

Her previous crush continued to avoid eye contact, formulating his cover story in his mind before he answered. "I've got food poisoning. Everything I ate at breakfast came back to haunt me, if you know what I mean," Harry explained, hoping he sounded convincing. Ginny seemed to accept his lie. "Pleasant. Well, I feel for you, if that's any consolation." Harry forced his lips to curve into a rather sickly-looking smile. There was a slight pause.

"Alright, I guess I should get to lunch then. I hope you feel better."

"Yeah, thanks. See you later."

"Bye!" Ginny called out as she walked through the portrait hole. Harry's stomach growled. He felt a little envious of his friends, who were most likely stuffing themselves in the Great Hall. Then he got an idea. No one else was in the common room, so, "Dobby?" Harry said to the air in front of him. Nothing happened for a moment. Suddenly there was a _pop_, and the adoring house elf appeared. "Yes, Harry-sir?" it squeaked excitedly.

"Hey, Dobby. I was wondering if you could grab me a little food…"

…O…

"We'll find a way to fix this, I'm sure. It's probably just a temporary thing, nothing to worry about," a still shocked Ron tried to soothe his friend. They were up in their dormitory, alone except for Hermione, and the boy Ron was attempting to comfort had just broken the bad news to him. "I don't know. I've never heard of anything like this happening to someone before. It's so _weird_," replied Harry.

"I doubt you're the only one that's gone through this, though. I mean, I haven't found anything on it yet, but I only had a half hour to look. And Dumbledore might have discovered something. You're going to meet up with him tomorrow morning, anyway. Just try to relax until then."

"How can I relax when---" Harry began, but he was cut off by the sound of their door opening. "Hermione, what are you doin' in here?" Seamus asked as Dean and Neville filed in, surprised to see a witch in their dormitory.

"Uh, just helping a friend. Harry's been really sick all day, so I had to check up on him before he turned in for the night," she covered.

"Yeah, well, you do realize it's almost ten 'o' clock, right?"

"Oh, no, I didn't. Well, I guess I better get going then, and Harry, remember to drink lots of fluids! Bye, Ron," Hermione added as she got up to leave.

After Hermione left, Ron got up to prepare for bed. Harry settled in to go to sleep, half-listening to his roommates' chatter. Darkness soon took over him as his mind switched over from worrying to blissful dreaming.

…O…

Early the next morning, Harry woke to find his dormitory looking much different than it had the night before. And not for the better. The once polished bed-frames were now peeling and seemed about to collapse. Their previously soft carpet had somehow completely disappeared.

In fact, Harry noted as his eyes took in the rest of the room, it appeared as though it had lost all its color and appeal, perhaps aging many decades overnight. "Hey, guys, wake up!" Harry urged. He hurried over to Ron's dilapidated bed, jolting him out of his deep sleep.

"What is it, mate?" the red-haired boy slurred out, barely comprehensible.

"Get up! Look at our room! There's something terribly wrong with it," his friend replied forcefully. The others were starting to awake as Ron sat up, opening his eyes blearily. They became wide as saucers though, as he got a good eyeful of their dormitory.

"Bloody hell!" the usually reserved Neville exclaimed, voicing the others thoughts as they realized their surroundings. "I think we need to alert Professor McGonagall about this," someone suggested.

"Yeah, but who's brave enough to walk out of this room? It might just collapse under our feet, judging by the condition it's in," said Dean, only half-joking. Harry volunteered to do it, leaving to fetch their Head of House, all the while puzzling over what could have possibly happened.


End file.
